


wrapping his arms (and coat) around him

by qynntessence



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay John Laurens, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qynntessence/pseuds/qynntessence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, let’s head back before it gets any colder. I think you’re catching something and you need to be able to speak for debate.” John ushers Alex away from the table, fingers lingering a bit too long on his shoulder than strictly necessary. Hamilton leans into the touch, leans into Laurens, his forehead resting on the sophomore’s shoulder for a few seconds before he realizes what he’s doing and straightens up.</p><p>“Sorry, tired.” He mumbles quietly, and Laurens just wraps an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander Hamilton is not used to New York winters. He isn’t even a semester into his first year of college when the snow comes down, coating everything in a powdery, wet layer of slick.

“I hate the cold.” He proclaims loudly to John Laurens when they meet up for breakfast, though he’s uncertain whether John can hear him through the scarf covering the bottom half of his face.

“First New York winter? It’ll get you. I’m not used to it, and I stayed up here last winter break.” Laurens ruffles the snowflakes out of his hair and cuts his pancake stack in half, nodding quickly to Lafayette and Mulligan as they came by. “Hey. How long did your paper for Franklin end up being? Because mine is, like, eight pages, and I don’t know if that’s enough.” 

He shoves a bite of pancake in his mouth as Mulligan mumbles back, “Eleven. I’m finishing up the conclusion after Washington’s house course this afternoon, and then turning it in.”

As the conversation about a paper he doesn’t have to write circles around him, Alex pushes his plate away from him and lays his head on the table. He pulls his hoodie up over his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm the sudden onset of headache and nausea that could, but didn’t usually, come with dining hall food.

“Hey. Hey. Alex, don’t you have a class in like ten minutes?” Lafayette shakes him gently and the motion rocks Alexander’s stomach around.

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t sleep well last night. Finishing up a paper.” He pushes himself upward, making sure not to make it seem like the effort it was, and takes his tray to the dishwashing station.

“Our wittle Alex is learning how to deal with the cold. Make sure to wear a sweater!” Laurens calls after him, and Alexander doesn’t even turn around, just gives him the middle finger as he walks out of the dining hall.

\--

Alex arrives for his Intro to Political Science recitation almost too late, but manages to get to his seat before Washington begins taking attendance. He still doesn’t know how he feels about TAs teaching classes, even if it’s just recitation; while he respects Washington in many ways, it’s harder to take someone seriously when you’ve seen them ridiculously drunk at various parties. Today, however, he’s glad; Alex needs to run over some Debate notes with him, as well as Mock Trial script edits and Political Union speeches before the meetings tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure that neither of them have a spare moment between this morning and tomorrow afternoon. While the rest of the class starts on the essay (that Hamilton swears he will start, tonight, but this needs to be done _now_ , George), Alex and George pour over Alex’s laptop, red comments and edits appearing rapidly on the documents.

“I’m thinking that this is going to be the side that Harvard takes, after watching their videos from last year, so I was thinking that we could dock them on an ad hominem fallacy- which isn’t like them, honestly, I think they were down on their game this match- and then talk about the logical impact of our decision, since they went emotional.” Hamilton concludes under his breath, wincing slightly as his head starts to hurt again. Washington types a few sentences in the comments and saves the document before moving over to Alex’s Political Union meeting agenda and scanning the entire thing.

“Looks like you’ve got it covered. Make a few edits on the debate- soften this up a little bit so the judges don’t think you’re cruel, but you’ve got the right idea. The script looks fine, and so does the agenda. Can you show me the work you’ve done for this class?” Washington gives him a look, fondly but still with an obvious meaning: go and work on the essay that I know you’re procrastinating on. Alex sighs and moves back to his desk, flipping through a few pages of a book before beginning to type out an outline for the essay he’s been avoiding.

\--

After 400mg of Ibuprofen and a nice, dull lecture in his first-year writing course, Alex trudges back to his dorm room to tackle the next few things on his to-do list: finishing up the tasks Washington assigned, writing that damn PoliSci paper, drafting up his end-of-the-week blog post, and tackling the daunting 20 page Evolutionary Anthropology final paper that would be due in a few weeks. He’s opened Spotify and started his “FOCUS DAMMIT” playlist, put in his headphones, and started on his second body paragraph for his PoliSci assignment when John Laurens bursts into his single. He shoots Alex a smile, arms filled with notebooks, and promptly plops down on Alex’s floor, spreading his work around the room.

“Lafayette and Herc are at a double-major meeting, so they won’t be back for an hour or so. I’ve got to add a few pages to Franklin’s primary source analysis paper, but that would involve actually finding another primary source.” He pouts and leans against Alex’s bed, laptop perched on his knees as he begins to type. “I think I’m just going to elaborate on what I’ve got. Can you edit, babe?”

Alex sighs, looks at his (very loosely) organized list, and then remembers the PoliSci paper he’s avoiding. “Yeah, hand it here.” He says almost absentmindedly, coughing into his elbow as Laurens passes the Macbook over. He breezes through the paper, making a few notes within each paragraph on where to add more analysis, and passes the computer back to John within five minutes.

“Thanks. What are you working on?” He asks, gesturing to the number of tabs open on Alex’s PC.

“All the notes for tomorrow’s meetings- I have no idea why Washington puts them all on the same day, it’s like he’s trying to stress me out- and some essays. Maybe a blog post later tonight, if I don’t crash before then.” He coughs again and returns to his essay, knowing that Washington will probably get in trouble if his actual professor finds out they did extracurricular work during class time.

\--

“Hey. You. Babe. Boyfriend. It’s been three hours, let’s get sustenance. The other two grabbed dinner after their super-long meeting, so there’s no one but me to drag you away from your very important work.” Laurens pushes Alexander’s chair around with his sock-clad feet, and the younger boy nearly falls out of it. Laurens doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it earlier- maybe it was the layers of clothing or the dim lighting, or the fact that he hasn’t properly seen Hamilton today, just handed him a laptop and received it back- but Alex looks _dreadful_. The bags under his eyes are nothing new, but his pale pallor and chapped lips, matched with a layer of sweat across his features, do not suit the freshman in front of him. “Hey. You okay, darling?” He asks softly, pressing the back of his hand to Alex’s forehead and, sure enough, he’s warm. “You’re feverish, Alex. Do you have a thermometer in here?”

“John, I’m fine, it’s just a headache. Let me finish up this paragraph and we can grab dinner.” Hamilton sighs quietly, the air catching on his probably-aching throat, causing him to cough loudly before turning back to his laptop. After a rustle of keys and some quiet finger drumming, he shuts the computer and smiles at his companion. “Come on, John, I’m starving.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it’s hidden by the green scarf on his bed, and John swears he can hear Hamilton’s coughs, muffled by the fabric, all the way to the dining hall.

\--

They eat quickly, talk quickly turning from papers (“Did you add in that clause I recommended on your Franklin paper?” “Yeah, I coupled it with the second source analysis in the last paragraph, which supported my thesis better.”) to the meetings happening on Thursday night (“Do you actually think Harvard will use an ad hominem attack? It’s fucking _Harvard_ , man, I don’t think a fallacy point dock is going to cut it.” “Yeah, I don’t either, but I can’t really come up with anything else at the moment, so…”).

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, Alex. Besides, Burr and Jefferson have been combing through the same records, right? The three of you are bound to figure something out.” Alex grimaces at the mention of the junior Debate members.

“No, they’ve been each taking a side and arguing it out for weeks now. They’re going to have a well-developed, thought-out argument for either side and I’m going to have next to nothing. It’s annoying.” Alex coughs again, and Laurens bites his upper lip.

“Come on, let’s head back before it gets any colder. I think you’re catching something and you need to be able to speak for debate.” John ushers Alex away from the table, fingers lingering a bit too long on his shoulder than strictly necessary. Hamilton leans into the touch, leans into Laurens, his forehead resting on the sophomore’s shoulder for a few seconds before he realizes what he’s doing and straightens up.

“Sorry, tired.” He mumbles quietly, and Laurens just wraps an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead.

“You know, babe, since we are dating and all that, you don’t have to make excuses if you don’t feel well. You can just tell me.” His fingers tangle in Alex’s hair as he rubs at the base of his neck, hoping it will help relax his very tense boyfriend.

“I’m just tired, John.” Hamilton shrugs out of John’s hold and pulls his hood up over his hair, shoving his hands into his pockets and shivering when the door opens. John winces, but lets him walk a few paces ahead back to the freshman dorms. “’m sorry.” Alex says softly before opening the door ahead of him. “I’m really stressed and tired and my head won’t stop pounding- I’m sorry.” Laurens just rolls his eyes and pulls Alex closer, burying the smaller boy in his chest and wrapping his arms (and coat) around him.

“It’s okay. Come on, let’s get you to bed. Nothing good will come of you being out in the cold with a cough.” John swipes them into the building and then leads Alex into his room, quietly organizing his stuff while his boyfriend changes into pajamas.

“It’s eight o-clock, John, I’m not going to be able to sleep.” Alex protests with a yawn. “I’m going to work on my PoliSci essay- it’s easy as hell and I can do it in bed.” He climbs on top of his mattress, wrapping a few layers of blankets around himself before John hands him his computer. “You’re welcome to stay. I’ll probably do this for an hour or so before getting bored and actually working on something productive, like a blog update.” At that, Lafayette and Mulligan saunter into the room, arms filled with books and papers, and the sounds of Alex’s sniffles and coughs are lost under the laughter of four boys.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you want me to stay?” Alex’s hair tangles in between John’s fingers as the latter saves Alex’s essays and notes and moves the laptop away. He had started drifting off about an hour after Lafayette and Mulligan had shown up, and Alex normally stayed up until all hours of the morning working. “I don’t mind, my first class doesn’t start until noon.” Alex buries himself further into the blankets and into John, his face nuzzling Laurens’ shoulder gently. He coughs harshly and sniffles as John rubs his back and pulls the blankets tighter over the pair of them. “It’s going to be okay. Sleep, you’ll feel better.” He doesn’t believe it for a second, not while hearing Alex’s congested breathing and feeling the heat radiating off his body, but he presses kisses to Hamilton’s forehead and hopes for all their sakes’ that he’s right.

Alex doesn’t sleep well. Usually, he’s so incredibly exhausted that he barely has the energy to climb into bed, yet alone time to think before his eyes shut and he sleeps for the three, four hours before class. Tonight, however, he tosses and turns, pulling the blankets on and off every hour as he shakes with chills or sweats himself through his clothes, not to mention the fact that he can’t fucking breathe without feeling like his throat is on fire. He eventually drifts into an unsteady sleep, awakened every time he needs to cough, and when his alarm goes off for his ten o-clock class, he almost throws the phone against the wall.

Almost.

“Ugh.” Alex sits up blearily, trying to clear the blockage in his throat before his John wakes up and tries to get him to stay in bed and rest. He coughs a few times more and tries talking again to no avail.

“Hey, babe.” Laurens wakes up sleepily, his warm eyes blinking open when he hears Alex struggling. “How are we feeling today, hmm?” He pulls himself into a sitting position and then positions Alex on his lap, letting the younger boy press his sweaty forehead into his shoulder. “You’re still warm, dearest, and the fact that you’re not protesting means you can’t speak. Do you want me to get Lafayette to bring over some flu medicine? It’ll make you feel better, darling.” Laurens voice had taken on a strange, soothing quality, one he hadn’t heard in his boyfriend before today. Alex nods quickly, arms wrapping around John’s torso as he hid himself in the other boy’s messy hair. John laughs and reaches for his cell phone on the table, sending a brief text to his friend before turning back to the sweaty kid in his arms.

“Alex, dearest, I know you’re not feeling the best, so do you want to stay home today? We can send an email to your EvAnth professor and watch terrible movies.” He runs his fingers through Alex’s hair softly, coaxing the freshman out of his shoulder.

“’s just a cold.” Alex mumbles sleepily, swallowing hard and blinking at his boyfriend hazily. “I’ll skip EvAnth because it’s useless and watch movies, but ‘m not sick. I have stuff to do today. Washington needs me to do… stuff.” The lack of eloquence in Alex’s usually perfectly-crafted speech takes John off guard, but he also knew that he couldn’t stop Alex once he got his mind set on something; John would just have to settle for a morning-in and hope that it was enough. “I’m gonna go shower because I feel gross. Pick a movie.” Alex presses a few kisses to Laurens’ neck, his tongue tracing his path before giving John a cheeky grin and sliding off the bed.

“You’re lucky you’re sick, Hamilton, or I wouldn’t let you leave until you finished what you started.” John runs a hand through his hair and watches as Alex strips down to his boxers, his small frame shivering as he tosses the flannel pants towards his hamper. He shakes as he walks towards the bathroom, pausing briefly to lean his head against the doorframe. “Hey, hey, hey, you okay?” John jumps quickly from the bed and pulls Alex against him, fingers running softly across his back. “Alright, you. Go take a shower- I’ll type up an email for your professor and pick something to watch.” Alex receives a kiss on the forehead, John tracing the shape of his face all the way down to his shoulder with his lips, and the shudder that comes from Alexander has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with what John’s tongue is now doing to his collarbone. Hamilton glares at John until he presses a final kiss to his hot skin and smiles.

“I hate you so much right now.” Alex mutters, but he’s blushing deeply and pulling closer to John, hands finding all the right places on his hips. His fingers brush underneath John’s t-shirt and he swears that he feels actual electricity coursing through his body, and he’s about to press closer, actually, properly kiss Hamilton when the boy in question doubles over coughing, the hands that were previously pulling on John’s heartstrings now wrapped around Alex’s stomach and covering his mouth as he tries to breathe.

“Alright, darling, come on. Shower.” John presses a last kiss to his temple before gently shoving Alexander into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and sighing with frustration and worry. A knock at the door causes him to compose himself, even though he knows it’s only Lafayette, and he takes a deep breath before unlocking the door.

“Hey. How’s he doing?” He’s carrying far more things than John asked for- he didn’t expect a “hey, alex is sick and I’m staying w him- can you bring over meds?” text to elicit this type of response.

“Not too great, but he’s not dying. What the hell is all of this stuff, Laf?” John looks at the small mountain that has appeared on Alex’s floor, which seems to consist of flu medicine, water bottles, cans of soup, a thermometer, and tissues.

“You said you were staying, so I figured I’d save myself a few extra trips.” Lafayette smiles and looks around. “Where is Alexander? Isn’t he supposed to be, you know, in bed?”

“Showering. The kid’s exhausted, he can barely stand up straight- don’t you dare make the joke, Laf- and he’s congested as hell. I’m worried, but it’s Alex, so he’s only going to take off the morning and then wear himself out at his club meetings. It’s Thursday, though, so he’ll have the weekend to sleep.” John rambles a little before Lafayette catches his shoulder and pulls him into a not-entirely-unexpected hug.

“He’s going to be fine, Laurens. We’ll take care of him.”

\--

Alex stumbles slightly on his way out of the shower, wrapping a towel around him quickly as the chill of the air hits his body. He sees the stack of clothes that John has set out for him and his heart warms in his chest as he pulls on sweatpants and a hoodie. “Hey.” His voice is scratchy and it hurts to talk, but he keeps going. “Let me check my email and we can watch shitty movies before all my meetings. Don’t you have class?” He climbs up into bed next to John, easily fitting their bodies together, and pulls over his laptop, reading the email that John had typed out and checking through the rest of his inbox. Washington had sent out the standard meeting reminder emails for the three meetings that night- Debate from 4:00 to 6:00, Mock Trial from 6:30 to 9:00, and then Political Union from 9:30 to 11:00. He still didn’t understand why Washington put all of the clubs he ran on the same day- maybe he had made up his schedule that way or something- but for the first time, Alex dreaded the seven-hour club time coming up.

“Alright, babe, that’s enough work. We’re watching Harry Potter.” Laurens gently tugged the laptop away from his boyfriend to insert the disk, and Hamilton curled up against his chest, blankets pulled as high as his chin as he shivered, hard. Laurens kissed him softly, arms wrapping around his torso and lips pressing against his forehead as the movie played in the background.

“Do you want breakfast, dearest? I can run over to the dining hall and bring something back.” Alex nodded into his chest, sneezing twice before pulling his knees up to his chest as Laurens climbed out of bed. He tucked the blankets tighter around Hamilton, fingers lingering around his fever-flushed face as Alex sniffled. “Alright. I’ll be back soon, darling.”

\--

“Angelica? What the hell are you doing in the freshman dining hall?” Laurens looks confused at the senior grabbing a cup of fruit ahead of him, and then realizes that it’s probably a poor idea to swear at the woman in charge of one of his clubs.

“I have a meeting with one of the first-year advisors who lives on campus. Why are you here?” Angelica Schuyler reaches past him to grab a bowl, but still looks curiously at John.

“Stayed over at Alex’s. He’s been up half the night coughing, so I figured going out into the cold to get breakfast wasn’t the best idea.” John grabs two single-serving boxes of cereal and a fruit cup before she stops him.

“Tell him I hope he feels better. You look scared, John- he’s going to be fine.” She gives him a smile before paying for her breakfast, and John follows suit, walking quickly back to the dorm with his pockets full of food.

“Alex? Darling, I’m back.” Alex is sitting up against the wall, skin pale and clammy, and he’s coughing harshly, arms wrapped around his stomach tightly. “Hey, hey, hey, come here.” Laurens quickly joins his shaking boyfriend in bed, pulling blankets around them and rubbing his hands up and down Alex’s back, trying to soothe the sharp noises that are causing his chest to ache with pain. “It’s okay, dearest. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Alex is in Laurens’ lap now, forehead pressed against his neck, and John can feel every shiver and shake in Hamilton’s small frame. Hands tangled in his hair, John holds Alex to his chest until he can feel the coughs subside, and he just pushes them downwards, Alex collapsing on top of John’s chest and drifting to sleep.

\--

Alex wakes at 3:30, hair disheveled and voice close to breaking. He downs three bottles of water before turning to John, eyes bright with either fever or passion. “I’ve got to go- I have Debate. And Mock Trial. And Political Union.” His voice is still weak and he looks like he wants to do anything but spend seven hours doing what he loves, but John knows that Alexander Hamilton wouldn’t miss a meeting if he were dead. Alex pulls on another sweater and his winter coat, wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, and John can tell how terrible he feels because Alexander, always obsessed with every tiny detail of his appearance, goes to his debate in sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Alexander?” Washington questions as the freshman walks into the debate meeting, two minutes late as opposed to his usual fifteen minutes early. He’s also wearing sweatpants, when George has never seen Hamilton in anything less than a button-down and jeans.

“George.” Alexander’s voice is rough on his ears, and Washington starts to notice the pale skin, flushed cheeks, and slight hitch of breath as Alex pulls off his coat. He leaves the scarf on, George sees, but seems to be fine as he pulls up notes on his computer. Alex pulls his hair away from his face messily, tying it up with shaking hands, and Washington feels a wave of sympathy for the sick first year, especially since he knows that Alex will be here and not resting for the next several hours. George sighs, but starts the meeting, keeping an eye on Alexander. When he gets up to present his points for the Harvard debate, he stumbles, tripping over the leg of the desk and barely stopping himself from falling.

“Sorry, Burr and Jefferson almost put me to sleep.” There’s a trickle of laughter from the crowd, and Hamilton stands up straighter, beginning to read his debate points. They’re not as strong as usual, and his hands are shaking almost as much as his voice as he talks through an argument. Polite applause follows and Hamilton sits down gratefully, almost slumping in his seat. George calls the meeting off half an hour early, figuring that he can convince Hamilton to go home and sleep instead of coming to the rest of the day’s meetings, but the second George finishes speaking, Hamilton is out the door like a shot, leaving his jacket and bag as he rushes into the hallway. Washington follows at a slower pace, finding the kid easily down the next hallway, bent in two and coughing, badly.

“Alexander?” He asks softly, and within half a second, he’s standing straight and smiling.

“Yes, sir?” He smiles and swallows another cough, leaning heavily against the wall, and Washington goes to stand next to him.

“Hamilton, you’re ill. You should go home and rest.” He puts a hand on his arm and is shocked by the heat he can feel radiating off, even through layers of clothing. “Missing one meeting won’t hurt you. Political Union is just having dinner today, anyway, and we’ve received your Mock Trial edits. You can go home.” Alexander shakes his head and looks dizzy with the effort.

“If I miss, they’ll think I can’t handle a cold.” He mumbles, one hand gripping the side of his stomach tightly. Washington sighed.

“This isn’t a cold, Hamilton. You need to rest so that you can do well. I’ll give you an extension on your damn PoliSci paper if that’s what it takes.”

“I’m fine, Washington.” Hamilton throws a cold glare his way and stalks off, but the moment he’s out of sight, George can hear his coughs returning.

He doesn’t follow after him this time.

\--

John receives a text from Jefferson around seven.

TJ: _Laurens, please come collect your coughing boyfriend. He’s making it difficult to practice and we have a competition._

JL: _Fuck off, Jefferson, he’s sick._

JL: _I’ll be there in five._

Jefferson grins at his phone and watches as Hamilton pulls his out of his pocket.

JL: _Hey, babe. Why don’t you skip out on the rest of your meetings and come finish up Harry Potter with me?_

AH: _John, I’m working._

JL: _No, you turned your stuff in. Come on, I know you don’t feel well. Come rest._

AH: _John. Busy._

JL: _Alexander. Sick._

AH: _Unless it’s an emergency, I’m staying here. I feel fine._

John sighs, knowing that texting would have never worked anyway. He pulls his hat over his head and shuts his door, heading towards Alexander.

JL: _I’m outside. Please? I’m all wrapped up in your favorite scarf and I’m adorable._

AH: _As tempting as that is, dearest, I’m trying to work._

George calls a break, and as the door opens, he sees his boyfriend rush out, face pale and sweaty and hands shaking. “Alex. Alex.” John says softly, opening his arms and letting Alexander melt into him, coughs muffled by the thick jackets they’re both wearing. John pulls Alexander’s hair out of its messy state and into his hands, holding him softly as he tries to clear his throat. He looks up at John, eyes watering and breath labored, and gives up on words, just buries his face in the folds of John’s jacket. “Shhhhhh. It’s okay, dearest. You’re okay.” He makes eye contact with George over Alexander’s head, and he smiles at the pair of them. John makes an executive decision and starts pulling Alexander towards the dorms, his hands quickly wrapping Alexander’s in gloves before they reach the door.

“John. John, I’ve got work to do…” Hamilton trails off into a trio of sneezes, and John hands him a tissue and pulls him closer as he shivers.

“No, Alex. You are going home and we are going to rest. You are running a fever and you can barely stand. Come on.” And Alex must actually be feeling worse than he thought, because he nods and pulls himself closer to John, shaking with the cold. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay, dearest.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions and non-detailed descriptions of vomiting.

John Laurens manages to get Alexander into his room, at least, before he starts to stress. Alex was never very good at dealing with stress, and he begins to pace around the room, emotions and illness causing tears to form in his eyes. “John, I really need to work, my laptop is back there and I have papers to do. I have a 20 page EvAnth paper in a few weeks and my PoliSci paper that Washington’s been bothering me to do and if I’m missing meetings, I need to make sure that’s perfect, and I have to write out all of the meeting minutes from today and e-mail someone to take notes at Political Union-”

“Alex. Alex, honey, look at me.” John runs a finger across his cheeks, catching the tears that were falling. “You’re sick. You need to rest. It’s okay to take care of yourself, everyone will understand that you’re ill. It’s okay.” Laurens extracts the thermometer from the pile on the floor and hands it to Hamilton, who sticks it under his tongue and continues to rant.

“It’s just a cold, John-”

“Alex, dear, you can’t talk with the thermometer in. Come here.” John sits against the dresser and gently tugs Hamilton into his lap, unwrapping the scarf from his neck and unbuttoning the large coat. He’s just starting to pull off Hamilton’s sneakers, mumbling softly to him all the way, when the thermometer beeps. “You’re at 102.4, Alex. You’re staying here.” Alex looks for all the world like he wants to protest, but decides against it, tucking his feet under John’s legs and cuddling into him. He lets out a deep breath and starts coughing again, which starts his shivering back up. “Come on, dear. Bed.”

“’m not tired. Can I work on your laptop? I’ll stay here and sit at my desk and take medicine, I just have to work.” Alex pulls himself out of Laurens’ embrace, grabbing the laptop out of his bag and setting himself up in his desk chair. John sighs and finds the medicine that Lafayette brought over that morning, placing it next to a glass of water on his desk. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with his boyfriend right now, so he climbs into Alex’s bed and pulls the blankets over his head to muffle the noise of typing keys.

“I’m going to take a nap, Alex. Wake me up if you need anything.” True to himself, Alex mumbles an affirmative, still typing almost as fast as he usually talked. John sighs quietly and drifts into an uneasy sleep, half listening to Alexander’s congested breathing.

\--

Alex’s hands are shaking as he types, but there’s no other option, he knows that. He needs to work, needs to get things done before he feels even worse. He reads over the last few body paragraphs of his PoliSci essay- already three pages over the limit- and sighs, writing out the conclusion as he goes. He internally groans that he was smart enough to back up all his files on Google Drive, thus not having an excuse to go and nap with his boyfriend, but pushes through the last few lines of his paper. After proofreading, he emails the document to Washington and sighs, pressing his fevered forehead to the cool desk. He should probably get ahead on that EvAnth paper, get it out of the way before exams started and he needed to study… oh, and he needed to write that blog post… and the school newspaper article…

Alexander shakes his head to focus his thoughts, and the movement worsens the growing headache and nausea. He takes a sip of water, hoping it will settle his stomach somewhat, and turns back to the computer. He’s already listed out the evidence he wants to use for his paper, so he starts typing again, thoughts muddled but still coming out beautifully in prose. The incessant typing continues for nearly an hour, Alexander struggling to breathe but never struggling to write, sneezes punctuating sentences more than periods. At 8:30, Alexander lays his forehead on the desk, finally deciding that the bright light of the laptop will do nothing to help his headache.

“Mpfh… Alex?” John blinks blearily at the warm pajama mass that just landed on top of him, pulling his wheezing boyfriend closer instinctually. “Hey, babe. Did you finally decide that I was much cuter than essays?” John is obviously half-asleep, but Alexander laughs, the lovely sound turning into a cough.

“You’ve always been cuter than essays.” He mumbles back, sleepily fitting himself against Laurens’ chest. “John… I don’t feel well.” He finally admits it in words, and John rubs soothing fingers up and down his back.

“I know you don’t, dearest. Did the medicine do anything to help?” Alex shakes his head, then winces at the headache that comes with it. “I’m sorry, darling. Why don’t you try sleeping?” The fevered student makes some noise of agreement and shuts his eyes, but the coughs only get worse as Alex cuddles John, and Laurens can only brush at Hamilton’s hair, kiss his temples, whisper that he’s here; he can’t actually fix the problem, and it’s killing him that the only thing he can do is watch Alexander hurt.

They eventually both drift off into an uneasy sleep, Alex never able to sleep for more than forty minutes before a coughing spell hits him, and he sits up and chokes on his own breath before collapsing with exhaustion. John can’t do anything but watch, holding Alex loosely to his side and trying to forget the whispered noises of pain in between each cough.

John wakes up at 10:45 not to the scarily-familiar sounds of Alex coughing, but to the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. “Alex?” John calls out softly, hoping that somehow, by some miracle, the noises in the bathroom are not his.

“In here.” Alex’s voice is weaker than John has ever heard it and he shoots out of bed, finding his boyfriend, sickly pale and ragged, with his head leaning weakly against the toilet. “Didn’t want to wake you.” He sounds incoherent, confused, and John’s heart breaks just a little more as the seconds pass.

“Darling, it’s okay.” He can’t think of anything else to say, anything else that could fix this, so he just sits down. Alex crawls into his lap, seeking comfort, but the movement seems to unbalance him enough to start up more nausea. John holds back his hair and rubs his back, and when Hamilton turns back to him, looking terrified and disappointed in himself, Laurens almost bursts into tears.

“Wait here for a second.” He says softly, grabbing a washcloth from under the sink and soaking it with cold water. He places it across Hamilton’s forehead and eyes and Alex actually sighs with relief. He grabs Alex’s toothbrush as well and puts it in his hands. “Can you brush your teeth for me, darling? You’ll feel better.” Alex complies, slowly, but sure enough, John receives the toothbrush back five minutes later.

“Do you want to stay in here or go back to bed?” John asks next, completely prepared to sleep on the bathroom floor if that’s what Hamilton wants. 

“…Here. Sorry.” Alex’s voice is barely there, but John nods and goes to retrieve the pillows and blankets from the bed. Once their makeshift sleeping area has been constructed, he fills a glass with water and hands it to Alex.

“Try and drink some of this, okay? You’re dehydrated.” Alex takes the glass with shaking hands and looks up at his boyfriend.

“What if I throw up again?”

“I’ll be right here.” John promises, running his thumb over the back of Alex’s hand. He seems to think this is a sufficient answer, because he drinks half of the glass before setting it aside. “Let that settle. Come here, darling.” He moves towards Alexander, very slowly pulling him into his lap. Alex’s head is pressed tightly against his neck and John starts rubbing his stomach, hoping the motion would ease some of the nausea. After ten minutes pass, Laurens presses the glass to Alex’s lips again, gently coaxing more of the liquid into his sick boyfriend. Alexander falls asleep like this, arms loosely around John’s waist, John running fingers through his hair.

A knock on the door startles John and he thanks every deity he can think of that Alexander stays fast asleep. 

“It’s open. Who is it?” He calls softly, hoping that it’s Lafayette or someone else who already knows about them so he doesn’t have to wake Alex up.

“George.”

Well, _fuck_. He was probably pissed at Alex for skipping out on his meeting- John would take the blame for that, no problem- but if Alex even thought Washington was disappointed in him, he wouldn’t stop working until he believed otherwise. 

“Just a second!” John responds, trying to figure out the best way to get Alex on the pillows without waking him, especially since he’s still not sure how George feels about them. Washington doesn’t listen and suddenly, the intimidating senior is leaning against the doorframe, his eyes focused on the mess of limbs that is Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.

_Fuck._

“Hi, Washington.” John whispers, still trying to shift Hamilton (and the fingers clinging to his shirt) over to the pile of pillows without waking the first year. He manages to maneuver both of them horizontally and then pulls himself out of Alex’s grasp before moving to the main room and standing in front of Washington.

“You didn’t need to move. I just came by to drop off Alexander’s laptop and books, which he left when you took him home, and the notes from our meetings. How is he doing?”

John fills with rage and his hands grip Alex’s chair tightly. “Why in the world would you bring him his work, Washington? He’s only resting because he ran out of things to do. He can’t sleep, he’s been coughing more than breathing, and now he’s throwing up, and you want to encourage him to work on Mock Trial, when you wouldn’t even send him back when he was running a 102 fever?” He tries to keep his voice down as to not wake Alex, but his eyes burn into Washington before he remembers that pissing off his boyfriend’s mentor is not in his best interests.

Washington’s eyes harden.

“I tried to send him home, Laurens. He wouldn’t listen to me. I wanted to check up on him since he came to debate in _sweatpants_ , for Christ’s sake, and I figured leaving his laptop wouldn’t be a good idea. I have just as much the right to be worried as you do. His stuff is on the bed.”

“You should have tried harder!” John hisses. “He’s terrified of not pleasing you! He finished up your paper just so you wouldn’t be angry with him for missing meetings! Clearly, if he’s that worried about disappointing you, you must have done something to warrant it! Alex is stressed, sure, but he’s not irrational! What the hell did you do to him?” John’s voice cracks on the last few words, his fear surrounding Alex’s condition seeping into his words.

“There is no reason for him to be afraid of me! I grade his papers, he does well! I’ve seen him debate, it’s phenomenal! I’m surprised at his skill for a freshman and proud of how he’s cultivated it!” Washington stays perfectly calm, but his eyes are burning into Laurens’ forehead.

“Have you told him that?” He asks softly, glaring right back.

“I’ve praised him on every debate he’s ever succeeded in, complimented each of his papers-”

“Have you told him that you’re proud of him?” It barely sounds like a question, more like a threat.

“Not in those words, but I would have thought he’d know!” Their voices are too loud and John hears a whimper coming from the bathroom.

“J-John? Is someone here?” Alexander sits up slowly, the nausea in his abdomen threatening to spill over again. “John, I’m gonna be sick again-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence before John is there, holding his hand and his hair as he empties his stomach again, shaking from the effort.

“It’s okay, darling, it’s okay. I’m right here.” His hands are soft and cold, and John is careful as he runs a washcloth over Alexander’s chin. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, dearest, it’s okay.”

“Alexander.” Washington’s voice is hard, and Laurens can feel Alex pull back slightly at his name. He realizes the position he’s in- sick as a dog, cuddling into his boyfriend after just throwing up everything in his stomach- and he turns deep red, an act that would ordinarily cause John to pin him to the bed and kiss him senseless, but now just cultivates his anger towards Washington. “I brought back your books, as well as the notes from tonight. Don’t work on anything until you’re feeling better, son.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Alexander knows he is anything but fine, but he tries it anyway, his voice coming out hoarse. “I’ll work on it tonight and send-”

“No, Alexander. Rest. Nothing I brought is urgent.” He folds his hands behind his back, and Laurens thinks he sees a shimmer of worry cross over his features.

“But sir, I need to get caught up anyway, and I’m really fine, honest-” True to form, Alexander is cut off by coughing, and he turns into John instinctually as his small body shakes with the exertion.

“Take care of him, John.” Washington gives Alex, still coughing into his boyfriend’s shoulder, a sympathetic look and nods at John.

“Good bye, sir.” Alex manages to say softly.

Washington laughs. “Good night, Alexander.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter, and I would apologize for that, except it ends really well (read: REALLY FUCKING SAD) so I wanted to end with that.
> 
> TW for vomiting

John ends up sleeping in the corner of the bathroom, Alexander curled into him and shaking almost the entire night. He wraps them both up in blankets and holds Alex tightly, his heart aching every time Alex coughs or sneezes weakly into his shoulder. He falls asleep far too late and wakes far too early to Lafayette’s gentle shake of his shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.” Lafayette slides the thermometer into Alex’s mouth and turns to look at John. “John, you’re exhausted, and if you’re not careful, you will also fall ill. It’s ten in the morning- go back to the room, get some rest, and go to class, if you can. I’ll stay with him.” The thermometer beeps and read 103.1. John sighs.

“He’s getting worse- last night, he was at 102.4.” He begins to untangle himself from the blankets, very carefully keeping them around Alexander as the younger boy curls up on the pillows. “Thank you.” He looks immensely grateful and Lafayette feels a wave of sympathy.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll tell you if he gets worse.”

\--

Alexander wakes up a few hours after Lafayette arrives, typing on his laptop on the other side of the bathroom. “Good morning, Alexander. How are you feeling?”

“…no.” He pulls the blanket over his head to try and block out the fluorescent lights above him. “Can you- Can you turn the lights off?” He mumbles, and as he wakes up fully, he begins to realize how much he _aches_. His chest, his throat, his head- he gives a low groan as the nausea returns as well. “Oh, _Jesus_.” He whispers, arms snaking around his stomach. “Where’s John?”

“John is sleeping, since he’s been spending most of his time trying to keep you alive. He’ll be back this evening.”

Alexander feels guilt hit his stomach harder than the cramps. “You can go, if you want, Laf. I can handle myself.” He’s quiet now, not wanting to disturb the Frenchman from his work. He swallows, hoping it will hold the coughing off, and tries to pull himself into a sitting position. It doesn’t work, and his body shakes with the effort of yet another coughing fit.

“If I leave, you will try and work, Alexander. I don’t mind staying.” Lafayette smiles softly. “I need to take your temperature. Open up.” Alex reluctantly lets the thermometer into his mouth, his hands clasped protectively over his stomach as he groans again, the nausea building up more and more now that he’s awake and sitting up.

“103.5. Your temperature is still rising, which means you’re still on the early side of this. I am sorry, Alex.”

Alex is sure that Lafayette is looking at him with something like pity, but he can’t use the energy to turn his head right now- he’s sure the movement would unsettle his stomach completely. However, it doesn’t seem to need anything to provoke it anymore; a particularly bad wave of nausea hits, and suddenly he’s throwing up again, more violently than he remembers, redder than he remembers, before passing out against the bathtub.

\--

“Lafayette? What’s wrong?” John wakes from a fitful sleep to the sound of his ringtone, knowing that Lafayette wouldn’t wake him unless something had actually gone wrong.

“Hi, John. How was your nap?” Lafayette tries to be casual, but John can hear the worrisome tone that he is trying to hide, and something else- are those sirens?

“Fine. What’s going on? You wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Is Alex okay?” His heart is racing now, and he struggles to untangle himself from the blankets and pull on the proper pants. A pause, too long, on the other side.

“No, John. We’re in the ambulance to the hospital now. Alex has been throwing up blood and his fever is above 104 now. He passed out and had a seizure in the bathroom. I’ve got to go, John, Alex is screaming. Hospital, now.” John hears Lafayette’s frantic voice trying to calm his boyfriend, and his heart sinks all the way down to his toes.

He feels sick to his stomach, worry filling his head with images of Alex, his Alexander, screaming in pain, burning with fever, coughing until he keels over. Lafayette had said that he had _fainted_ \- his Alexander, his gorgeous, brilliant, phenomenal Alexander was sick enough that he had a goddamn _seizure._ His Alexander is throwing up blood, his Alexander is too feverish and hot, his Alexander is in the hospital and it’s John’s fault, he didn’t take him sooner and oh, God, what if Alexander doesn’t make it, what if his too-high fever burns out that brilliant mind of his and what if he hurts himself during another seizure and what if Alex isn’t okay- his knees buckle and all of a sudden, John is on the floor in nothing but a t-shirt and his boxers, knees pulled up to his chest, sobbing into his blanket. He lets all the emotions from the last few days free, all the worry and care he had given Alex, all of the anger at Washington, all of the fear that Alex wouldn’t be okay- Alex isn’t okay, he reminds himself- and he breaks into pieces across the carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't yell at me (actually please do yell at me angrily in the comments, everyone knows that a 'FUCK YOU' is the highest compliment a fic writer can recieve)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to avalonjoan for making sure this was medically accurate, because i am an engineer and do not understand anything besides fever=sick.  
> speaking of which, slight edits were made to chapter 4 to reflect medical accuracy (just in terms of what laf tells john), and i'm sorry that it wasn't accurate previously!  
> i felt p bad about dropping that last chapter on you, so here's a very long one (but it's just as sad, so i'm not sure if this is a good thing?)  
> anything that is **bold** , by the way, is french  
> oh, and lafayette, john, mulligan, and alex are all queerplatonic partners! (+ alex and john are dating, but i think that's p obvious)
> 
> TW for general anxiety, mentions of vomiting and seizures

Alexander wakes up surrounded by people he doesn’t know, feverish, shaky, and with a pounding headache, among other things. He’s _exhausted_ and can’t make out anything in the room except bright lights and the drone of people talking. His eyes are heavy and his stomach is moving too fast and his head is cloudy but hurting and he doesn’t think he can speak, yet alone figure out what the hell is going on. He doesn’t know if he even wants to; would it be easier to just fall asleep? He hears sirens in the background- did he get in an accident? He thought he was in his dorm- and Lafayette’s voice on the phone.

“No, John. We’re in the ambulance to the hospital now.” Lafayette sounds worried- why? Did something happen? Why are they going to the hospital? Is he sick? He tries to turn his head to ask, but the nausea gets worse and a spike of pain shoots through his forehead. He groans and tries to close his eyes against the bright lights. “Alex has been throwing up blood and his fever is above 104 now.” Oh. Damn. Panic shoots through his heart, worse than his head, as he vividly remembers the last time he was sent to the hospital.

Suddenly, he was nine again, curled up against Mommy, crying and burning up from fever and wishing he could just _die_ , wishing he could close his eyes and not open them again because he hurt all over and it would be easier if he could just stop feeling. “Alex, Alex honey, come on, we’re going to the hospital, sweetheart.” They didn’t have the money to go to the hospital, Alex knew that, Alex wanted Mommy to be able to eat, Alex fought, he fought as hard as he could, but he couldn’t move without screaming and so he did, sobbing into Mommy’s chest as he screamed, screaming at the pain in his throat, in his head, in his tummy. He threw up twice in the car, still crying because he _hurt_ and she was supposed to make it stop, Mommy was supposed to make it stop and it wasn’t stopping and he wanted to scream but he couldn’t scream anymore, so he cried because it was the only noise he could make.

The car stopped.

Her heart stopped.

Alex stayed in the hospital for two weeks, screaming at everyone who came into his room, crying when they all stopped coming. He slept through the funeral that no one came to and woke up with a tube in his mouth, forcing him to breathe, but he didn’t want to breathe, he didn’t want to have these people he didn’t know make the hurt stop, Mommy was supposed to make the hurt stop and she wasn’t here so he was supposed to hurt until he stopped hurting when he saw Mommy, but Mommy was gone and he wanted to be gone too, because then the hurt would stop.

His tummy stopped hurting and his throat stopped hurting and his head stopped hurting and his fever stopped burning and his Mommy stopped breathing.

Alexander begins to scream because he can make that noise now and screaming always brought Mommy from wherever she was and he just wants to stop hurting, he doesn’t care that he’s nineteen and he hasn’t cried in ten years, hasn’t cried since the last time he was in the hospital, crying will bring Mommy and Mommy will fix it, Mommy always fixes it. He can see his arms and legs moving but he can’t make them stop and he screams louder, cries harder, because Mommy’s not here yet and why can’t she hear him?

“I’ve got to go, John, Alex is screaming. Hospital, now.” Lafayette’s voice cuts through the haze, panic obvious, but he’s not Mommy and Alex wants Mommy but Lafayette talks softly and sweetly and it takes some of the hurt away. “Alex, Alex, **my star,** my Alexander. Our John is coming for you. We’re going to stay with you, we’re not going to leave you here alone, okay? **We love you, my star, we are not going to leave.** ” Lafayette wishes he could hold Alex’s hand, make sure that Alex can feel the heartbeat underneath his shirt, but he can barely see what’s happening, just hear Alex’s terrified, hoarse screams. “ **You are alive, my dear, and we love you.** ” Lafayette never uses pet names, especially French ones, around anyone but his partners, but he’s desperate and Alex is crying and Alexander never cries, Alexander is always the stoic one who holds them when their lives fall apart around them, Alexander is falling apart and he can’t hold him, he can’t do anything but tell him that they love him. **"We love you, my dear, we love you, we love you, we love you.”**

Alex stops screaming.

“ **We love you.”**

He can’t stop crying, can’t stop from wincing at every bump in the road.

“ **We love you.”**

Alex can’t make noises that aren’t screams or sobs, can’t tell Lafayette that he loves him too, he just coughs and shakes and wishes he could go back to sleep.

“ **We love you, Alexander. Oh, my star, we love you so.”**

\--

“John? You missed class today- is Alex okay? I know he wasn’t feeling well yesterday-” Hercules walks into their triple room to see a pile of John Laurens, shaking and crying on their floor. “What happened?” Mulligan immediately gathers John to his chest, letting the smaller boy cry for a few minutes as he runs comforting fingers through his hair.

“Alex-” He hiccups, coughs, moves on, “Alex is in the hospital. Lafayette called. He’s- um, he’s throwing up blood and his fever went up again and he’s- he’s having seizures and he’s not okay and he might die, Hercules, and I can’t drive there right now and I know that I need to tell his professors and Washington because that’s what Alex would want but it’s my fault, I didn’t bring him to the hospital earlier, I thought it was just the flu, I thought he would be okay, he’s not okay and I just-” He starts sobbing again, head shaking against Mulligan’s shoulder as the tears roll down his cheeks.

“It’s not your fault, John. It’s not. You couldn’t have known he would get this bad, no one did. He’s going to be okay. Come on. You need to see him. I’ll drive, we can stop by the debate officer meeting on our way and tell Washington.” Mulligan helps gather John up, pulls him to his feet. His arm is around John’s waist but he doesn’t seem to mind the extra stability as Hercules turns off the lights and shuts the door behind him.

\--

“Where the fuck is Hamilton? The meeting started ten minutes ago.” Jefferson is spread across two chairs, leaning back in one and his feet resting in another as he types absentmindedly on his laptop. “Coughing fits don’t excuse him from meetings.”

“Thomas, with all due respect, maybe you could at least pretend to care about Alexander? Especially since you’d be complaining about him getting you sick if he were here.” Washington looks like he wants to go on, but is stopped by a knock at the door.

“Washington, sir.” John, still shaky, eyes red and swollen, nods to the senior. “Jefferson, Burr, Madison. Um, I’m here to tell you that Alex can’t make the meeting. He’s- uh, he’s in the hospital. We don’t know what’s wrong yet, just that his temperature is rising and- and, um, that he’s been having seizures. We’re heading there now, if you, uh, want me to tell him anything.” John looks back to Hercules, who gives him an encouraging nod. “I’m sure he wants to be here.” He adds as an afterthought, swaying nervously on his feet.

“Thank you, John.” Washington’s voice almost cracks, but he knows that John will shatter in front of him if that happens. “Do you need somebody to drive?”

“I’ve got it.” Hercules holds up his car keys, but his hands are shaking, too, and George shakes his head. He looks around the room, but even Jefferson has a look of worry on his face.

“Neither of you are in the right state to drive. Meeting’s over, there’s not much else we can do without Hamilton’s notes. I’ll get an Uber.” George shoves his hands into his pockets, partially to find his phone and partially to grip tightly at the fabric, trying to focus himself. “Jefferson, send an email that we need someone to fill in for Alexander at Varsity for tomorrow.”

“Sir, I can fill in for him. I’ll be there anyway, and my kids know what they’re doing.” Madison, who had opted to run the JV team instead of joining Varsity, smiles softly. “I’m sure Alex wouldn’t want an email going out that he couldn’t debate.”

“Sounds good, James. Make sure to look over his points tonight.” Washington walks away in a hurry, John and Hercules following at a quick pace, leaving Jefferson, Madison, and Burr to look at each other with barely-hidden looks of worry.

“Are we… supposed to do something?” Burr ventures, fiddling his hands nervously.

“Yeah. Text him and get the debate notes.” Jefferson pulls out his phone before either of the other boys could stop him.

TJ: _Hamilton, we need your debate notes if you’re not going to be there tomorrow._

AH: _This is Lafayette. We’re currently IN AN AMBULANCE ON THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL, so be patient._

AH: _Also, since this is Alex we’re speaking of, all the documents are probably backed up on Google Drive._

TJ: _Found them. Tell Alex not to die._

\--

John sobs the entire way to the hospital, his head resting against Hercules’ shoulder as the Uber driver stays silent. Washington is quiet as well, which wouldn’t scare John as much if his hands weren’t shaking as much as John’s were. Washington was supposed to be the tough one, the senior running everything Alex loved, and John might have been angry at him earlier, but when he turns around, looking as frightened as John feels, and asks if he can do anything, John just shakes his head and tries not to cry harder. George is just as scared for Alexander as he is, and being angry isn’t going to help anything, just make Alex feel worse if he sees them fighting. The drive takes too long and too short at the same time, because if John sees Alex, he can’t deny it anymore, can’t push away the ebbing feeling that his boyfriend could not survive.

That doesn’t stop him from running into the hospital, only stopped by Lafayette’s hands on his shoulders. “John, John, **my heart** , it’s me. We can’t see him right now, **my dear** , we need to wait. Come on, come sit down.” Lafayette gently redirects him to the chairs, where John collapses, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Less than 24 hours ago, John had been holding Alex through coughing fits. How in the hell had his boyfriend’s stuffy nose and sore throat turned into this? How was he actually doing this, sitting in the waiting room of a hospital, waiting to hear news on Alexander, his boyfriend of only a few months but his best friend of years, wondering if he would live or die? John’s weakly-held façade breaks again, and he cries into his hands until Lafayette pulls him down into his lap and holds him. “John, **my dear** , he’s going to be okay. He’s Alex, **he’s our star, he’s our Alexander,** he’s going to be okay, he has to be okay. **He has to be okay.** ” Lafayette shatters too, the calmness with which he had helped Alexander turning into sobs to match John’s. They curl into each other, years of friendship obvious in how easily they fit together.

“Can- can you tell me what happened?” John wipes his eyes with his sleeve, not having the energy to be embarrassed as his head finds Lafayette’s shoulder. He remembers the way Alexander cuddled into him like this, the two of them snuggled against the bathroom wall, and tears flow again, soundless.

“He, um, he woke up around 2:30, and his temperature was at 103.5. **He seemed fine** , just tired, but then he started throwing up again, and, **oh God, the amount of blood was terrifying.** As I called the ambulance, he- uh, **he passed out and started thrashing around** , which the EMTs said was a seizure, and then I called you and **he started screaming, it was so terrifying, his eyes were glassed over and he just screamed and cried,** **which is when I hung up, and I talked to him and he stopped screaming but not crying** and then we got here. **I couldn’t make him stop crying, I just kept telling him that we loved him, and he has to be okay, John, he has to.** ” Lafayette rushes through, clearly forgetting which language he’s supposed to be speaking in, and John is grateful that he understands French so well. He runs a soothing hand over Lafayette’s back as he starts crying again, and Hercules joins them quietly, pulling both of them close to his chest. John ends up with his head in Lafayette’s lap, a hand stroking over his hair, as the Frenchman sobs into Hercules’ shoulder. Washington sits next to Hercules, all of them abandoning chairs in the name of physical contact, his arm around the sophomore’s and his eyes brimming with tears. John curls up in the fetal position, one hand holding Lafayette’s and the other clutched around his stomach, crying silently with the rest of them.

_Alexander, look at the mess you’ve brought us to. God, we love you so much._

_Please don’t leave us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will accept tears, screaming, and swearing  
> as well as concrit  
> but mainly tears tbh


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long! I've been having some mental health issues and I had family over (which wasn't necessarily helpful to the mental health issues), so I've been trying to deal with that.
> 
> Finally, though, here is the next update! It's long and fluffy (well, fluffy-ish, it's still sad because I wrote it) to make up for the TWO WEEKS you've had to go without an update.
> 
> As usual, if there's anything in the TW you don't want to read, leave me a comment with a way to get in contact with you and I'll send you an edited version!
> 
> TW for casual swearing, hospitals, discussion of anxiety attacks, slight misgendering

“Hamilton?” The name rings out across the room, and Lafayette gently shakes John out of sleep. He awakens slowly, trying to remember where he is and why he’s waking up to George Washington piercing eyes. He checks his watch- it’s 6:00, which means he’s been asleep for almost two hours.

“He’s ours.” John mumbles immediately, sitting up and ignoring the slight dizziness that came with it. “Is he okay?” He regrets asking the question once he sees the nurse’s face fall. Lafayette runs his fingers over John’s knuckles.

“He’s had two more seizures since we brought him in and his temperature is hovering just under 104.” John feels nauseated again, almost overwhelmingly so, and presses closer to Lafayette.

“My- uh, my parents are his power of attorney. They’re coming as soon as they can- I called them once we got here. And, um, Lafayette and John have been taking care of him, if you need stuff like that.” Hercules stammers. “Can we see him?”

“He’s still in the ICU, and the visitation policy is family only. Did your parents adopt him, or foster him, or just sign a contract to be his power of attorney?” She looks apologetic, but that doesn’t make John feel any _better_. Alex despises hospitals, almost to the point of fear, and he probably threw up his anxiety meds, so he’s going to be panicking and John _can’t do anything_ besides sit here and hope Alex doesn’t need him.

“Oh, uh, he’s on an anti-anxiety medication.” John says quickly, interrupting whatever Mulligan was going to say. “I don’t have a bottle of it with me, but-”

“I do. I grabbed it after I called the ambulance.” Lafayette pulls the bottle out of his bag. “I brought it and the cold/flu medicine he was on yesterday. Just in case.” He hands both to the nurse and everyone ignores how badly his hands are shaking.

“Thank you. Is he adopted or fostered?” She turns back to Hercules.

“Um, they fostered him for about two years until he turned eighteen, and then signed the contract. Why?”

“You’re family, technically. Since there’s legal documentation of Alexander being under your parents’ care for more than a year. Come on back.”

“Herc! I brought his laptop and some movies, in case he’s bored. Here.” Lafayette hands him a small stack of DVDs and the laptop before Hercules stands up and gives the three boys a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he’s okay.” He follows the nurse quickly and John lies back down, head in Lafayette’s lap, stomach churning with fear.

“He’s going to be okay, **my heart** , he’s going to be okay.” Lafayette runs fingers through his hair as if that would stop the shaking, as if anything in this world could calm him down when Alexander was probably panicking and crying and needing someone and he couldn’t do anything to help- a sob escapes his throat and he just pulls his hood over his head and ignores the world.

\--

Alexander wakes up alone. The room is white, sterile- he hears a faint beeping in the background, feels something pulling at his hand.

Oh, _fuck._ He blinks a few times and more things come into focus. The IV going into his hand, the fact that he’s in a thin gown. The ache in his throat, his head, his chest- the overwhelming heat of the room- the heart monitor near his head.

 _Hospital._ His first thought.

 _Who’s dead?_ His second. If he’s in the hospital, someone has to be dead, someone’s always dead. Mommy is dead. Mommy was in the car with him.

Lafayette was in the car with him, wasn’t he? Lafayette had calmed him down. Lafayette had said he loved Alex.

Mommy had said she loved Alex.

He starts crying because he can’t scream right now, curls up as small as he can and bawls because he’s nine, he’s nineteen, Mommy is dead, Lafayette is dead, and there’s no other sound to make but sobbing. He’s crying, he’s coughing, he’s sick as hell but that doesn’t matter anymore because Lafayette is gone and he’s not coming back and the pain in his chest can wait because there’s a pain in his heart.

Was John in the car?

Alex remembers Lafayette talking to John. He doesn’t remember hearing John’s voice but he doesn’t remember a lot regardless.

No. Both of them can’t be gone. That’s just not _fair_ , the universe wouldn’t do that, but the universe took Mommy and the universe left him alone and the universe took Lafayette so why not? He’s twice the age he was when Mommy left, so that means twice the amount of people have to leave.

The universe is fair, he just doesn’t like it.

John and Lafayette are gone. It doesn’t matter that he’s coughing more than crying now because someone needs to cry over them and they were always more important than he was, they always put him first so now he has to put them first, so he ignores the fact that he’s barely breathing and he cries until someone says his name.

“Alex?” They repeat it again. He can’t say it back, can’t talk- why should he get that privilege when Lafayette doesn’t, when John doesn’t? When Mommy doesn’t?

“Alex, it’s Hercules Mulligan. You’re in the hospital. I’m going to hold your hand, okay?” They grab his hand and it’s warm, it’s comforting, they rub their thumb over his knuckles but that doesn’t make the people he loves come back, how is this supposed to make him feel better? “We’re all really worried about you. Can you tell me why you’re crying?” Their voice is warm, just like their hand, and Alex struggles to make a noise.

“Lafayette is dead. John is dead.” He struggles out, and it’s the first words he’s spoken since he was in the bathroom with Lafayette, saying that he could handle himself, and the last words he said were a lie, the last thing Lafayette did was take care of him and the last thing he said was a lie. The last thing John did was hold him while he was sick, hold him until he fell asleep, and he never told John how much he loved him, never told either of them what they meant to him, and now they’ll never know, they’ll never know that he owes them his life and his happiness and that he was never worth their love but they gave it anyway-

“Alex, Lafayette and John are alive. They’re in the waiting room right now. They’re worried sick about you, honey.” The nickname slips out but it doesn’t seem to calm the boy in front of him.

“No, they’re not, I’m here so that means someone is dead.” He sobs and coughs and Hercules doesn’t know what to do, so he texts Lafayette one-handed.

HM: _Alex thinks you and John are dead. Something about being in the hospital- can you send me a picture of you and John so I can calm him down?_

Laf: _[photo attached]_

Laf: _Tell him that we love him and we’ll be in to see him as soon as we can._

“Alex. Alex, honey, look, here’s a picture of John and Lafayette, dated for today. They’re not dead, Alex, they’re not dead, it’s okay.” He’s rambling a bit, but it doesn’t matter because Alexander stops crying, just stares at the phone.

“They’re… not dead? No one’s dead?” He asks softly.

“No one’s dead, Alex. They can’t come see you because you’re still in the ICU and they’re not family. But they love you, they love you so much, Alex, and they’re going to come see you as soon as possible.” His voice is warm and soothing and Alex stops shaking, breathes as deeply as he can without choking on air.

“Okay. I’m sorry. Um, why am I in the ICU?” He asks nervously before blowing his nose.

“You’re sick, Alexander. There’s been some stuff going through the dorms- colds, the flu, a stomach bug. We thought it was just a really bad flu or something, but you’ve had three seizures and your fever is really high. Lafayette had to call an ambulance because you started throwing up blood.” And he can’t keep the worry out of his voice now. “We were really, really scared, Alex. We still are.” Hercules’ hands tighten around Alex’s own.

“That explains why I feel like hell.” Alex mumbles, and Hercules realizes that the thick, raspy quality of his voice wasn’t caused by the crying. “I’m sorry I worried everyone. Didn’t mean to- didn’t mean for it to get this bad.” He coughs wetly, knees still pulled close to his chest.

“Everyone gets sick, Alexander. It’s a part of being human. But you have to take care of yourself. We just- all of us just want you to be okay. John and Lafayette and Washington are all outside, and they just want you to get better, alright?” He nods sleepily, eyelids fluttering. “Are you tired, honey? You can go to sleep if you want. I’m going to stay here for a while, okay?” Alex nods and sniffles before his eyes drift shut.

\--

“John, sit up.” Lafayette shakes his shoulder. “John, Alex is freaking out, he thinks we’re dead for some reason, _sit up and smile for the fucking camera_.” John shoots up blearily, tries to smile as best he can at Laf’s phone. A few seconds later, his head is eased back into Lafayette’s lap. “I’m so sorry I was harsh, **my dear** , my emotions got the better of me. **A scared, sick Alex is very difficult to calm.** I couldn’t get him to stop crying on the way over here. **Are you alright?** ” John nods, but tries to pull his jacket up over his eyes anyway (it doesn’t work). His emotions are running all over the place again and it’s very loud and bright and getting overstimulated will not be helpful to anyone.

“I understand, it’s okay. Worried about Alex too. Too much happening.” He mumbles. “Don’t want to overload.”

“I have a white noise generator on my phone.” Strangely, it’s Washington, not Lafayette, who hands him a set of earbuds. He’s met by two pairs of incredulous eyes. “I know Alex has breakdowns sometimes, and I wanted to be prepared in case something happened and you weren’t around.” John breathes out shakily and Lafayette pulls him onto his lap fully.

“Do you want me to play with your hair or just hold you?” He whispers before John puts in his earbuds.

“Just hold me.” He mumbles, tucking Washington’s phone into his jacket pocket and pulling his hood up. His head rests on Lafayette’s shoulder, who wraps his arms around John in a tight hug and doesn’t let go. He only moves when a toddler runs through yelling and John grips his shirt tighter, startled, and Lafayette kisses his forehead until he calms.

“You don’t have to answer this, but… what’s the nature of your relationship?” Washington asks, his hands picking at his coat.

“Queerplatonic. Herc, John, Alex, and I are in a queerplatonic partnership, which is like- dedicated friendship, I guess? It’s like dating, but based off platonic feelings instead of romantic ones. It sort of depends on the relationship, but ours means that we cuddle and hold hands and kiss sometimes and look out for each other, mainly. And then Alex and John are also dating, but that’s entirely separate.” Lafayette explains, arms never leaving from their position around John.

“Is he- Is Alex happy?” And that’s what he really wants to know, Lafayette realizes, that’s what he’s been getting at.

“Alexander is… complicated. He’s figuring a lot of things out, many of which are not mine to talk about. He doesn’t take care of himself enough and we worry about that, a lot. He works too hard and sleeps too little for us to really be comfortable with, but he’s getting better about it. His… uh, breakdowns, I think you called them? They used to be a really sore spot for him, and I honestly think they still are, some days. But he’s open about it, and he talks to us when he has problems, and he lets himself be loved. That’s all I can really ask of him.” Lafayette says carefully, making sure to steer clear of incidents that Washington doesn’t know about. “I don’t know if he’s happy, but he’s definitely better than he was when we met him. We’re all sort of- oh, how do I put it- we’ve all got some pretty serious mental health issues. We try to be better than we were last month. Most of the time, we succeed. And if we don’t, we have three people who love us anyway.”

John groans against Lafayette’s neck, an arm tightening around his stomach. “You’re okay, you’re safe. What’s going on, **my heart**?” He doesn’t even bother to give Washington an apologetic look, just gently pulls John backwards so he can see his face.

“Feel sick, Laf. Nauseated.” He swallows hard.

“You haven’t eaten in over a day and you’re dehydrated and nervous, sweetheart, that’s to be expected. Do you think you can eat something for me? I’ve got Goldfish, pretzels, and peanut butter crackers in my bag, or we can go to the hospital cafeteria. George, can you grab three bottles of water?” He hands the upperclassman a debit card and immediately turns back to the boy in his arms.

“Can I have Goldfish? They’re my favorite.”

“I know they are, **my dear** , that’s why I have them. Eat, you’ll feel better.” He opens the pack of Goldfish for John and slowly rubs the tension out of his partner’s stomach. “How are you doing, John? I know this is really tough for you. You took care of Alex as best you could knowing what you did. It’s not your fault in any way that he’s here.”

“I’m really worried about him. Two days ago, he just had a runny nose and coughed a lot. He fell asleep yesterday morning with a sore throat and the sniffles- how did he get this bad so quickly? I’m scared he’s going to take another quick turn downhill and we’ll be left without him. I’m scared because he thought we were dead, because that means he’s panicking and I can’t help him. I’m scared because you said he was screaming in the ambulance and I don’t want him to be afraid and alone. He really hates hospitals and I don’t want him to need me when I’m not there.” Lafayette rubs John’s back gently before George returns with the water bottles.

“Hercules is with him now, John, so he’s not alone. He has someone to help, even if it’s not you. He’s going to be okay. This is Alexander we’re talking about, he’d probably talk so much that even the Reaper would get annoyed and leave.” John cracks a smile at that. “He’s going to be okay. He’s always okay. Can you drink some of this for me? Drink about a third and we’ll let your stomach settle.” Lafayette opens the water bottle, takes a look at John’s hands, stuffed into his pockets and gripping the fabric tightly, and holds the bottle to his lips. “You too.” He says to George, raising his eyebrows.

“Thank you.” John whispers, nuzzling back into the crook between Lafayette’s neck and shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too, John.” He turns back to George, who is putting the cap back on his water bottle. “Anyway, as I was saying, we’re… working on it. Happiness isn’t a goal- it’s more like a wave. It comes and it goes, and you just need to be ready when it’s gone.”

“You seem to really care about them. All of them.” George motions to the boy curled up on Lafayette’s lap, and he laughs lightly, not enough to disturb John.

“I… owe them a lot.”

“He says that we’re not difficult people to love, even if we may believe otherwise.” John mumbles, pulling out the earbuds to listen, and Lafayette smiles.

“He’s not wrong- they’re all genuinely kind, interesting people. It’s an honor to love them.” He kisses John’s forehead again and the boy blushes. “I take all my emotions about Alexander and use it to make sure these two are okay. It makes it easier, in some ways, because I’m used to taking care of them. But I’m also very, very aware of why they’re… fragile right now. It’s much easier for me to take all my fear and regret and anger and use it to help people, but there’s a balance. You have to know when to be stoic and remind them that everything’s okay, and when to just cry together. I can only hope I do the right thing at the right time.”

“You do.” John mumbles again, kissing Lafayette’s cheek.

“Thank you, **my heart.** Eat some more Goldfish. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Hungry. You were right. Head still hurts, though.”

“Drink some more water. Actually, you know what? Why don’t we walk outside for a little bit? You need some fresh air and we can get away from all the noise and the hospital smell, which is probably part of why you have a headache. Can you stand up for me, John?” They all struggle to their feet, half asleep from disuse, and Lafayette wraps a scarf around John and hands him a pair of gloves before intertwining their fingers and pulling him out the door.

John breathes deeply and takes another sip from the water bottle in his hand as they walk around the outside of the building.

“Is there any way I can help? With Alex, I mean. I’d like to be prepared, if we’re somewhere that you can’t be reached.” Washington tucks his hands into the pockets nervously. He doesn’t want to intrude into their relationship, and he definitely doesn’t want to make Lafayette uncomfortable when all of them were so stressed, but Lafayette seems to relax when he talks about his partners.

“You would need to talk to him first. Alex is an immensely private person, especially when it comes to his mental health, and that would be a conversation between the two of you. I would be more than willing to talk to you about how to help after that.” He tries to say it kindly, but Lafayette is protective above all else and he hopes that didn’t come out too harshly.

He sees Hercules’ parents walking up and waves. “Mr. and Mrs. Mulligan!” He calls out.

“Gilbert!” He winces at the name- he’s still figuring out his relationship with gender, but he stopped using that particular name at the beginning of the year. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

“Alex is in the ICU, only family’s allowed in. Hercules is in there, because they’re foster brothers, but we can’t visit him. This is George Washington, by the way- he’s Alex’s PoliSci mentor. I was feeling sick from the noise and the smell, so we decided to come out here for a while.” He lies smoothly and John squeezes his hand in gratitude.

“We’re just going to check in with his doctors, make sure they have everything they need to properly take care of Alex. We’ll keep you updated. It’s nearly eight- have you boys eaten dinner?” Another squeeze from John as she says the word ‘boys’.

“No, ma’am. We’ve been sort of distracted, but we were planning to stop by the hospital cafeteria after this. It’s good to see you again.” John speaks up softly, most of his face covered by his jacket and scarf.

“We’ll all go get dinner, someplace nice. You all look like you could use something substantial in you.” Laf feels John stiffen next to him.

“We’ll try, Mrs. Mulligan. I’m still not feeling all that well and we’re all quite exhausted, honestly- we’ve been taking care of Alex for the last few days and this has really shaken us up. It’s been a long day.” Lafayette lets his mask drop a little, lets the fear and exhaustion and worry show a little, and Hercules’ mother smiles sadly.

“That’s okay, Gilbert. We’ll just take you all back when we’re done. Feel better, sweetheart!” And they’re off, rushing into the hospital to check on Alex, and Lafayette sighs, dropping the mask altogether and letting his head drop to John’s shoulder.

“ _God,_ I’m tired. John, remind me to tell Hercules’ mom about gender, sometime. I want to go home if we can’t see Alex, this is draining.” John wraps him tightly in a hug until Lafayette takes a deep breath and pulls himself upright, calmness coating his features easily. John kisses the tip of his nose and smiles up at him. “How are you feeling, John?”

“Better. Thank you.” He sniffles, and Lafayette and Washington look at him nervously. “Just the cold, Laf. I always get congested outside, you know that.” He sniffles again and Laf draws John into his side.

“Come on, let’s go inside. The last thing anyone needs is for you to get sick too, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really enjoyed writing it (especially Mom!Lafayette. Amazing). I'm always down for concrit or just screaming in the comments, really.
> 
> You can reach me at fallenspock.tumblr.com.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this was originally going to be, like, half of a chapter, but then it got to be like 2000 words. and it ends well (which you should all now interpret as heartbreaking), so i figured i'd put it up while editing the next bit.
> 
> thanks again to avalonjoan for making this medically accurate!!
> 
> as always, if there's anything in the TW you don't want to read, lmk and i'll send you an edited version!
> 
> TW for hospital/medical stuff, slight panicking

“John? Gilbert? George? You can come see Alex, if you’d like.” Mr. Mulligan’s voice is warm and smooth despite the nervous expression covering his face. Lafayette helps John to his feet, watching him carefully as he yawns and leans against the wall. “We got everything sorted out. Come on.”

John bites his lip. He wants nothing more but to see Alex, (relatively) safe and sound, but there’s no way to deny it once he walks in- he can’t delude himself into thinking that Alex is just at school, that he’s waiting for someone else. He has to accept that Alex actually is here, sick enough that John can’t fix it.

“We can go home if you want,” Lafayette reminds him, but he shakes his head.

“I didn’t wait this long just to leave him. Let’s go.” They hold hands on the way in.

“Alexander?” John’s voice catches in his throat. Alex is skinnier than he remembers, and much, much paler than he should be. His breathing is ragged and he’s curled up too small, an arm wrapped loosely around his stomach. There are wires and tubes in too many places, IV bags of medicine hanging by the side of the bed, and Alex is sneezing violently into a Kleenex while Hercules strokes his hair. “Alex?” He repeats, half afraid that he won’t answer, half afraid that he will and his voice-

“John?” And his voice will be raspy and weak and cracked through with illness. “You’re not dead.”

“Drink,” Hercules reminds him, handing Alex a cup of water. He drinks from the straw weakly before setting it down on the table.

“Lafayette? Washington? Why are you here?”

“We’re here because we care about you, **my star.** We’ve been so worried, Alexander, and we wanted to let you know that we’re not dead.” Lafayette’s voice has taken on a softer quality, one John remembers from his first panic attack- cool, soothing, unaggressive.

“Alex?” John says again, walking slowly over to his boyfriend and sitting in the chair nearest his head. “How are- what- um, how are you feeling?” It’s a bad question and he knows it, but his throat is thick and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say when his best friend is bedbound in a hospital.

“Bad. I can’t speak very well, I’m sorry.” He takes in a shaky breath and continues, “I still have the fever, and, uh, a really, really bad headache. And all the other stuff.” He gestures to the lower half of his face before he coughs, wincing when he gets breath. “Ow.”

“Oh, Alexander. I love you.” He’s struck with a sudden fear that Alexander doesn’t know this, that somehow he wasn’t listening all the other times John said it. “I hope you know that. I love you so, so much, my Alexander.”

“I love you too, John,” He coughs out, his body shaking. “I know, John-”

“Alex, it’s okay. You don’t need to talk, darling, I know it hurts.” He doesn’t remember when he started, but he’s holding Alex’s hand now and he runs his thumb over Alex’s knuckles. He smiles gratefully, eyes filled with affection as they look at John.

“Do they know what he has?” Lafayette asks above him, presumably to the Mulligans.

“They think I had a cold, which progressed into-” Alex is cut off by another coughing fit.

“Alexander, be quiet for once in your life.” Washington speaks, finally, and his tone is fond. “Please. Stop trying to prove your worth and just… let us care about you.” Alex blushes under George’s worried gaze, but he nods (and then winces, which he tries to hide).

“The doctors said that he probably caught the flu going around, which… got complicated, since he didn’t take care of himself properly.” Hercules ruffles Alex’s hair playfully, but his look of worry is unmistakable.

“When did you have the flu? More importantly, how the fuck did you hide it from me?” John hisses, and feels instantly guilty when Alex’s face falls.

“It wasn’t that bad! I didn’t-” Alex argues and then curls tighter around his stomach as a wave of pain hits. “It was just a cold, John, it wasn’t important-”

“You are important, Alexander! Your health and well-being are important to me! How did you-”

“John. Maybe not the best time for this conversation?” Lafayette fixes him with a look, pure protectiveness and fear, and John’s mouth snaps shut.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, looking at his shoes. Guilt replaces anger in his veins and he lets go of Alex’s hand.

“He developed a sinus infection and pneumonia from there. The sinus infection caused an increase in… something I can’t remember, something about head pressure… and, uh, that caused the vomiting and seizures. They’re doing an, uh, upper ed-no-scope-y? thing to see about the blood.”

“Endoscopy,” Alex clarifies quietly, grabbing for the blanket at his feet. Lafayette pulls it over him and brushes a hand over his forehead.

“Are they treating him for anything?” Washington asks Hercules, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.

“I’m on antibiotics-” Alex starts, but the combination of Washington’s kind glare and a bad sneeze cuts him off.

“He’s on steroids, antibiotics, and something to make him stop seizing. And I think he’s being moved out of ICU, but I’m not sure? They weren’t very clear on that part.” Hercules moves his hand from Alex’s hair to let Lafayette take over. Washington gives a grim smile.

“Alexander? Is there anything we can do to make you feel better? And write it down, for God’s sake, please don’t talk.” Washington moves closer to Alex, who pulls out his phone and types quickly.

_Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine. Be back to debating in no time._

“Alexander, you know that’s not the question I asked. I… I don’t want you to try and impress me by how stoic you can be while you’re in the hospital. I just want you to be okay.”

_Thank you for coming. It means a lot. That you came and that you care._

Washington grins and sits down next to John. “It wasn’t a problem, Alexander. We’ve been- I’ve been worrying about you.”

Alex yawns and then sniffles, trying to pull the blankets tighter around himself, and Mrs. Mulligan smiles sadly. “I think that’s our cue to leave. Alexander, get your rest, sweetheart, we’ll be back tomorrow. Come on, kids, we’ll take you all back to the dorms.” Washington, Lafayette, and Hercules all follow her to the door, but John is still in his seat, staring at his shoes.

“John, **my dear** , it’s time to go,” Lafayette murmurs as everyone else filters out the door.

“I’ll- um, I’ll meet you at the car, Laf.” John gives him a small smile, hoping that Laf will let it be.

“John. Be careful,” He warns, but lets the door close behind him softly.

He stares at his shoes for a few more seconds before looking up at Alexander.

“I’m sorry for yelling. That was uncalled for and I know it scares you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, John.” His voice sounds even worse now, just barely there, and it makes John want to break down crying then and there. Alex reaches for the tissue box on the table and blows his nose before coughing again, and John feels another urge to gather his boyfriend to his chest and just hold him, try to bring some comfort to his illness-riddled body.

“No, Alex, it’s not. You were sick and you hid it from me. You didn’t take care of yourself and now you’re in the _hospital_. For fuck’s sake, Alex, I knew you were reckless, but this? Why? Why would you feel like you couldn’t tell me what was going on in your life?” John grabs Alex’s hand again, suddenly desperate for a lifeline, trying to keep his voice steady and failing.

“It wasn’t- fuck, ow, that hurts-” Alex sneezes twice and then turns back to John, whose heartbroken expression is obvious. “It wasn’t important at the time. I had stuff to do. I took medicine for the headache and fever and let you assume the rest was just the cold, when I saw you. It was the week of your big presentation, I didn’t want to bother you- I didn’t kiss you on the lips, so you shouldn’t get sick, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

“Alex, that’s the least of my worries! You didn’t think your health was important enough for your attention or mine, apparently! You don’t seem to realize- you are _in the hospital_! This is serious, Alexander! Why did you hide this from me?” Alex winces at the use of his full name; John has never used it in anger before, only with love and respect or when something important happened and it _stings._

“I didn’t _try_ to hide it.” His voice, even while weak, has taken on that fierce argumentative quality, the one John only sees when he’s debating with someone or working through a particularly opinionated paper. “You seem to have this belief that I’m in here because I want to be, because I want to make you upset by being sick. I don’t, and if it were up to me, I’d be working right now. This place scares me, you know that; I woke up alone and screaming, thinking that you were dead. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I had the sniffles, but in my defense, I didn’t see you much that week. You had more important things, like your big biology presentation, and I had things to do, like my debate meet. A little cold was no excuse when I had things to do, things that I _excelled at,_ I might add. I made the right choice, John Laurens.”

His eyes are burning into John’s skull, hot with fever and passion, and he scoffs, but remembers the presentation, remembers the two of them working until the early hours of the morning on their own projects, remembers avoiding Alex’s concerned eyes as he powered through the last few days of research without his boyfriend.

“Of course. Of course you’d want to be working when you’re sick enough to be hospitalized. Alexander, how do you not get it? The only thing anyone wants from you right now is for you to get better! Even Washington, whose approval you seem to value over the rest of us! When did we become not enough for you?” He’s yelling again and he can tell that he’s aggravating Alex’s now-constant headache, but he needs Alex to _understand_. This must be how Alex feels when he’s arguing well or writing his papers, like nothing in the world can make him stop.

“Washington literally just wants you to get better, not write him a paper or run for student council! You are so caught up in trying to be the best that you don’t realize that you already are! Or maybe those ways don’t count to you- being the best boyfriend, my best friend, the best person to go to in a crisis? Is that not enough for you, Alexander? You’re so… obsessed with this goal of perfection that you’re neglecting the people who will love you even if you don’t achieve it!”

He’s breathing hard, eyes wild, and Alex has buried his head in his knees, eyes clenched with pain, but John can’t bring himself to care right now when he did this to himself. He did this because _he didn’t think he was worth it_ and because _he values his reputation more than his health_ and John doesn’t want to think about how he ignored Alex’s illness in favor for his bio grade, how the guilt is pooling in his stomach just by looking at the IVs going into Alex. He can’t be here anymore, can’t deal with this properly with Alex curled up in a hospital bed.

“John.” Alex’s voice is laced with fear and pain alike, his eyes finally opening and _fuck,_ he’s crying, but John turns around anyway.

“I don’t- I don’t want to hear it, Alexander. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you.” Desperation clouds his words and Alex is coughing again, choking on emotions and breath and John just can’t do this anymore, can’t be here without breaking down for a million and one reasons and Alex doesn’t need to see him like that, Alex needs him to be steady and comfortable and _he needs to get out_.

“I’ll- I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex. I love you too.” He lets the door shut behind him. Methodically makes his way to the front of the building. Lafayette is waiting outside the car with open arms. He shakes his head, crawls into the backseat with Hercules. Sits sandwiched between Lafayette and Herc. Sobs into both of their shoulders.

Lets them assume the reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...we've resorted back to cliffhangers, apparently.


End file.
